


Red is the Colour

by Cookie



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, M/M, Red String of Fate, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28242885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cookie/pseuds/Cookie
Summary: When Morgana attempts to sow discord between Merlin and Arthur, she gets more than she bargained for - but that's not necessarily a bad thing.
Relationships: Gwen/Morgana (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 108
Collections: Merlin Holidays 2020





	Red is the Colour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bruit_of_buss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bruit_of_buss/gifts).



> Thank you for a lovely set of prompts - I was really struck by the red thread of fate prompt and set about to provide some fluff and happy endings for you. Some may see that I have appropriated Rhiannon from the Mabinogion within the story. I hope you enjoy it. Happy Holidays!

The crunch of hooves on snowy ground and the occasional jingle of bit and bridle were the only sounds to be heard. The breath of horses and men frosted visibly in the silent air, and both huddled deep into their cloaks for warmth.

Merlin shivered, drawing the folds of the fur-lined cloak even closer and snuggling down as much as possible. Arthur deciding on a day’s hunting to help supplement the stores for Yule celebrations had not sounded like one of his best ideas to Merlin. He had pointed out, quite reasonably, he thought, that there were plenty of people who could do the hunting, but only Arthur could run the kingdom. It had garnered him an eye roll and a lecture about not asking anyone to do anything he would not do himself and that Agravaine was on hand as well. Merlin was convinced it was more to do with avoiding a lengthy and boring council session, however, he was wise enough not to suggest this out loud, though he couldn’t quite stifle his distaste at the mention of Agravaine.

Instead, he had ensured preparations were made, ignored the quiet argument taking place between Arthur and Leon regarding the need or otherwise for an escort, and when Arthur emerged victorious, with Agravaine’s support, Merlin could say, smugly, that all the orders Arthur was issuing had already been anticipated and carried out.

They had clattered down the stairs as the dawn broke. Arthur took an awkward leave-taking from Gwen and was on horseback before he cast a final glance round. His gaze rested on Merlin for a moment before he leaned down and spoke to Gwen. She dropped a curtsey, ignoring Arthur’s frown, and scuttled off up the steps into the castle. Arthur exchanged a few words with a worried looking Leon, breaking off when Gwen reappeared with a bundle of fabric clutched to her.

“Merlin.”

Merlin urged his horse forward and stared down at Gwen.

“Arthur says you’re to put these on.”

Merlin gaped for a moment and looked at Arthur. For some weeks now, the relationship between them had been strained, though Merlin could find no reason for it. Their argument the previous evening had been the first time an exchange had felt natural and Merlin had been glad enough of it. Arthur made a ‘hurry up’ gesture, and Merlin scrambled into the fur-lined cloak and gloves, fighting down the lump in his throat.

With a nod at Merlin, Arthur urged Hengroen into a trot, and Merlin, trailing the two pack ponies in his wake, jogged after him.

Both of them missed the amused look Leon and Gwen exchanged before they went about their business. In turn, they missed the calculating gleam in Agravaine’s eyes as he made his own plans.

**

The day’s hunting went well and despite his distaste for killing, Merlin knew the meat was needed. A good feast would do wonders for morale in the castle and there would be enough to supplement the rations for some days. Merlin watched as Arthur hesitated, and the young, juicy buck sprang off through the undergrowth out of range of the crossbow. Instead, Arthur targeted an older beast that was dragging one hind leg. It joined the boar and gamebirds trussed to the pack ponies and after a satisfied inspection, Arthur gave the order to turn for home.

The spires of Camelot were in sight, the moon rising above the tower and washing the land in light, and Merlin was just beginning to relax. He was thinking longingly of hot mulled cider when the horses shied, snorting in alarm and he struggled to keep his seat. Merlin urged his mount alongside Arthur’s and stared, his uppermost feeling one of deep disgruntlement. He sighed, sensing the magic surrounding the woman before them, then frowned. There was dark magic there, but it did not belong to her and the magic he realised was her own resonated with a strength and vibrancy different from anything he had known. 

“Madam,” Arthur was as courteous as ever, though his tone was wary. “It is late in the season to be travelling. May we offer you aid?”

_Emrys, trust me._

The voice was strained and weak and Merlin saw that, despite the bitter cold, she was sweating. A young colt, barely a yearling, trotted out of cover and stood close to her side.

“Sire, my Lord,” she bobbed a shaky curtsey to them both but Merlin was too focussed on her to notice Arthur’s glance and slight frown. “I have been sent against my will to do you harm. Please hear me.”

Arthur’s hand strayed to the hilt of his sword.

She smiled then, laughter lines wrinkling at the corners of her eyes and for some reason, it reassured Merlin.

“You are right to be careful, King Arthur, there are many dangers facing you on your journey. Morgana found me, smelled out my magic, and sought to turn it to her will. Even now the formorrah works to bend my will to hers.” She smiled again, and this time it was not as pleasant. “But Morgana, though strong in magic, is weak in understanding. She did not realise who I am. My magic differs from her own and while she thought it weak, it is not.

She wishes evil upon you. Her will drives me to cast a spell that will create discord between you and those closest to you. It would mean Camelot’s ultimate downfall and the ruin of all your friendships.“

Neither of them missed the way her glance slid to Merlin.

“It is subtle, but her lack of knowledge would have caused the very damage to magic she seeks to avoid. I cannot completely go against her will, but I can shift the focus and perhaps help Morgana as well.”

They had been spell-bound by her voice, but Arthur stirred enough to ask. “Why would you want to help the woman who has done this to you?”

“Morgana is a casualty in Uther’s war against magic. If magic had still been acknowledged and part of the kingdom as it was before your birth, then she would have been taught, encouraged, and loved for her gifts. I know she has done terrible things, my King, but I beg you to find compassion and pity for her.”

“I can make you no promises, but despite all she has done, she is my sister and I love the woman she was. If there is a way to restore her, then I would consider it.”

“You are kind as well as wise, Sire.” She swayed. “I do not have much more time. Be well. Know that magic loves you, King Arthur.” Her eyes glowed, swirling gold and she raised her hands. The bright colour flowed from her eyes, twisted around her hands, and then flared out, encompassing the two men, some of it vanishing into the air. She smiled again, her arms outstretched, palms raised to the sky. “The blessings of the Mother be with you.”

As they watched, her form crumbled to dust and a soft breeze swept it away into the trees. The colt sprang into action and was lost to sight amongst the undergrowth.

**

In the citadel, Gwen paused in her journey through the castle, glancing along another corridor, one she had once travelled daily, Pursing her lips, she shook her head and continued on her way.

**

Morgana was asleep in the hovel she now called her home, curled in a nest of blankets, twitching and mumbling. A wash of gold swirled around her for a moment and she sighed, her form relaxing as she finally slept dreamlessly.

**

Merlin and Arthur continued into Camelot, made uneasy by their encounter but unaware of any immediate effects. They trotted into the courtyard and became embroiled in the usual routine of a journey’s end. Merlin kept glancing across at Arthur and more often than not, Arthur was returning his look. It was disconcerting. A slight flash of colour caught his attention. Arthur had pulled off his gloves and was gesticulating as he spoke. Around his little finger there was a ring of red. Merlin frowned. Arthur must have caught his hand somehow. He would get some salve from Gaius before he went to Arthur’s room. Even a small wound could be troublesome if not properly tended. Pulling off his own gloves he glanced down and stopped, transfixed. Around the base of his little finger was a ring of red thread.

**

“Gaius. Gaius!”

Merlin burst into the room and Gaius, at a tricky point in concocting a winter tisane, started, dropping twice the amount of comfrey into the brew.

“Merlin! What have I said about entering this room quietly. I could have been with a patient. Close the door behind you at least.” He scowled down at the spoiled potion for a moment before turning his attention to his wayward apprentice.

His eyebrows rose. “Merlin?”

In response, Merlin did as he was bid and all but staggered to the table, slumping down. He put his elbows on the wood and his head in his hands.

“What is the matter with – What’s that?”

Merlin looked up, and then at his hand, alerted by an odd tone in Gaius’ voice. “We met a sorceress on the way back to Camelot.”

“Of course you did. Well, my boy, tell me everything.”

Gaius settled himself opposite Merlin and remained silent as the tale unfolded.

“You say that Arthur also has a red thread on his little finger?”

“Yes. What does it mean, Gaius?”

Gaius pursed his lips, and it almost appeared as if he was amused. “Has Arthur mentioned it?”

“No, I don’t think he can see it.”

“And this sorceress was managing to fight against a formorrah? She is stronger than she seemed, I think. You're the most powerful sorcerer I’ve ever known and yet you couldn't escape its influence.”

Merlin shuddered. “You realise it means Morgana has another. Agravaine must have informed her that Arthur had left on a hunting trip.”

“Well, we’ll deal with the formorrah and Agravaine another time. I suspect it’s our magic that allows us to see the thread.”

“Yes, but what is it? Is it going to harm Arthur?”

Of course, thought Gaius, that would be Merlin’s first concern.

“Well, there is a myth that there are those who are bound together throughout time, and a red thread connects them, one to the other. It can become tangled, or stretched thin, but it can never be broken. Those bound together will search a lifetime for their soul-mate and while they may take others into their lives, neither will be complete without the other.”

**

Before Merlin had time to react to Gaius' revelation with anything more than a slack jaw and open mouth, a soft knock at the door was immediately followed by Gwen’s entry.

“Good evening, Gaius. Merlin, I heard Arthur shouting for you.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, shoving his own concerns to one side for the moment. “I’d better go and see what King Dollophead wants now.” But he winced when he couldn’t disguise the fondness in his tone. “Are you well, Gwen?” Her unusually quiet demeanour struck him suddenly. “You seem sad?”

“Oh, nothing to worry about, Merlin, I’m just tired.”

She swept a hand across her brow and Merlin felt ice settle in his veins.

“Oh, my,” he heard Gaius murmur, and Merlin could have sworn there was an element of glee in his voice.

Around the little finger of Gwen’s hand, nestled a single red thread.

**

Arthur was pouting. What was truly annoying was that he knew he was pouting and seemed unable to rearrange his features to reflect any other expression. He really hadn’t expected Merlin to dash off like that the moment they returned. Arthur wanted a bath, and some hot mead, and some supper. More than anything, though, he wanted Merlin’s company.

Since he had become king, Arthur knew he had finally shaken off Uther’s influence. He still loved and missed his father, but the knowledge of his frailty and weakness as a king had seeded and grown long before his death. Gaius had finally explained about the medallion that had been around Uther’s neck and he accepted that Dragoon had been trying with everything he knew, to save someone who would have executed him without mercy. It had set off a whole train of thought for Arthur, reviewing the past weeks, months, and years until, inevitably, he reached one inescapable conclusion.

He opened the door to his chambers. “Merlin!”

Satisfied that someone would ensure Merlin knew he was wanted, he moved to the window and thought about their encounter with the sorceress. He had felt no threat from her, despite the fact she had cast some form of spell. It had felt almost comfortable when the gold had washed over them, leaving behind a sense of well-being, and some hard knot inside him seemed to ease. They had ridden on in silence, lost in their thoughts but content to be together and heading for home.

The clattering of the door announced Merlin’s arrival. Well, it would never be Merlin actually knocking the door that would do it. The thought amused Arthur and finally shifted the pout.

“At last,” he said and snapped out his orders.

Merlin glared at him and Arthur smiled sunnily in response. There was a moment’s stillness before Merlin’s expression relaxed and he shook his head.

“Right away, King Clotpole.”  
  
“I could have you put in the stocks for your insolence, you know.”

“Of course, you could – if you hadn’t had them removed.”

“I can get them put back.”

“I burned them.”

Arthur couldn’t stop the snort of laughter and flung himself into a chair. “Send someone to sort out the bath and some supper. You can pour us a tankard of mead.”

Merlin did as he was bid and then subsided into another chair, cradling the mug in his hands and blowing on the warm drink before sipping.

“So, what was today all about, do you think? Did Gaius know anything? I assume you told him.”

“Yes, we’re not sure, though.”

Arthur waited, and waited, and sighed. “What was that thing she mentioned – the fom something?”

“The formorrah? It’s used to bend someone’s will. It has a number of heads and Morgana would have severed one and put it into the woman’s neck to control her. If you try and remove it, it just grows back. Normally the person can’t fight against it. She must have been incredibly strong.”

“So has that been used on you?”

Merlin choked on his drink and Arthur had to get up and slap him on the back a couple of times. If he hit a little harder than he really needed to, he felt justified.

“What do you mean?” Merlin managed finally, croaking out the words as he wiped his streaming eyes.

“Well, following the time we lost you in the forest, you behaved extremely strangely for a while. I knew Gaius and Gwen were involved in whatever it was. Did Morgana try to get you to kill me?”

There was a long silence.

“Yes.”

At last, Arthur sensed the chink in the armour, the weakness that told him Merlin ached to spill his secrets. Once he knew about Merlin, Arthur had realised he had been right – Merlin was a terrible liar because most of the time he was fighting against his natural inclination to tell the truth. A wave of fondness washed over him.

“You were a terrible assassin.”

“I would have been a very good assassin if it hadn’t been for Gaius and Gwen.” Merlin’s response was sober.

“So, how many attempts?”

“Acid bath, poison, crossbow, sword.” Merlin shrugged.

“But not the obvious,” Arthur spoke his thought aloud, staring into the fire. Why hadn’t Merlin simply used his magic to kill him? From everything he had pieced together, he knew Merlin was powerful. Surely one spell would have done it. It gave him more food for thought about magic in general and Merlin’s magic in particular. It struck him suddenly that the room had gone very quiet. He glanced up. Merlin looked as if he had been turned to stone.

“Really, Merlin, how stupid do you think I am?” He kept his tone acerbic and as natural as possible. He was grateful when the servants chose this moment to arrive with the tub and buckets of steaming water. It broke the hiatus as Merlin surged to his feet and began directing operations while Arthur watched.

When they left, Merlin moved towards him to help him undress and then hesitated. Arthur, warm and suddenly feeling freer than he ever had, reached out and pulled him close. Merlin let out a gasp that was almost a sob and wrapped his arms around Arthur burying a suspiciously damp face against his neck.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin mumbled, sometime later.

Arthur, with Merlin in his arms, where he belongs, his heart whispered, shrugged. “I understand. It took me some time to work it all out, but I know why you did what you did. I intend to send Agravaine back to his own lands. I know your suspicions and knowing what I do now, I expect they have merit. He is my kin, my mother’s brother, though, and I don’t believe I want to know more.”

Merlin regarded him, “I think that would probably be best, Arthur. I really am so very sorry.”

Arthur managed a small smile. “And I’m sorry, too. But now there will be no more secrets between us.”

“None?”

“None.”

Merlin drew back a little, gazing at Arthur and what he saw in Arthur’s face obviously reassured him as he smiled and then leaned in, capturing Arthur’s mouth in a sweet caress.

He pulled away much too soon. “The water will be getting cold.”

Arthur dragged him back into his arms. “I’m sure you’ll be able to deal with that satisfactorily.”

Later, when they were both luxuriating in the hot water, Merlin told Arthur about the thread binding them together.

“Did she put it there?”

Merlin shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think it was always there, though she might have given it a little more power, to make it more obvious. Morgana wanted her to sow discord between us, but instead, she crafted the spell to do the opposite. She really must have been powerful. What I don’t understand though, is why Gwen has a thread and how the sorceress thought she could help M – oh. Oh my.”

“Don’t do that, you sound like Gaius, and that’s not right when we’re both naked.”

Merlin could only giggle at Arthur’s horrified expression and it was some time before he could control himself enough to explain. Eventually, after Arthur threatened to duck him, he managed it.

“I expect Morgana now has a red thread, too. She has magic so she’ll be able to see it though I don’t know if she’ll recognise it for what it is.”

There was a long silence, during which Merlin swirled his finger in the cooling water and whispered a word. The steam rose and Arthur sighed in pleasure at the renewed heat.

“Then we must wait and see what she does next.”

“What if she comes to Camelot?”

“Despite what she has done, she’s my sister, Merlin, and I can’t help but remember the girl she was and love her. I’d like us to find a way to peace if we can.” He was aware of a tension in Merlin’s frame and tugged him closer to offer comfort. “I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but let’s see if we can at least manage a truce?” And then he proceeded to distract Merlin from the whole issue quite effectively.

_**_

The winter sun was well up before Morgana stirred and woke, stretching and glorying in a long uninterrupted sleep. Stumbling from the bed, she brought the embers of the fire back to life and settled a pot of spiced cider on to warm. She poured some water into a bowl and looked with some distaste at her hands. Her nails were uneven and rimmed with dirt. What would Gwen think if she could see Morgana now? A wave of homesickness, sudden and shocking, froze her. Gritting her teeth, she pushed the memory away but still spent time soaking her hands and using a twig to try and remove the worst of the grime. As she turned towards the fire, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. For so long she had been tied up with thoughts of revenge, eaten away by bitterness and, she could now admit it, fear of what she might face and what she had become. It had left her no time or energy to consider her own appearance, strange for one who had been so fastidious.

The view in the mirror staggered her, hardly recognising the white, drawn features and the mess of hair. She watched herself touch what had once been a smooth, gleaming ebony glory and saw the tears that would not be stopped. Her hand stilled as she noticed something else.

Around the base of her little finger was a red thread.

She tried to remove it, but it was stubborn and when she touched it she felt the magic, the pull. With a muttered curse, she spun around and made for her store. The formorrah floated in its liquid, shrivelled and dead.

“What did you do to me?” In anger, she swept the bottle from the shelf and watched as it shattered. She should be full of fury and more bitterness but instead she was weary of it all. Homesickness washed over her again, thinking of a hot bath, of Gwen’s gentle chatter, of blushes and occasional touches as Gwen helped her dry and dress. She remembered the sweetness of Gwen washing and brushing her hair, how she often stayed well into the night to soothe Morgana from yet another nightmare.

Stumbling back, as if she could physically remove herself from her memories, she grabbed her cloak and fled the hovel.

Outside in the clearing, a beautiful white mare waited.

**

When asked, Morgana could never remember how she mounted the horse, or how it took her unerringly and without urging towards Camelot. When she was within sight of the walls, the mare stopped and Morgana knew she would go on foot from here. The full moon was rising and Camelot looked beautiful in the frosty light.

“What have you done to me?” she whispered.

_I have taken your nightmares and your hate. Go and find your peace, child._

The mare tossed her head and trotted back to the forest. As Morgana watched, a colt joined her just before they were lost to sight among the trees. Morgana, alone and afraid, raised her chin, took a deep breath, and walked towards her future, whatever that might be.

**

Pushing unruly hair back from her forehead, Gwen looked around with satisfaction. She had slipped in to Morgana’s chambers early in the afternoon, drawn by a longing she could not explain. The rooms had been shut since Morgana left and a layer of dust covered everything. Gwen had shaken her head, collected all the cleaning materials she might need and set to. Now, the wood was gleaming with polish, the bed was newly made up and aired, the floors swept and scrubbed, the rugs free of dust and a fire was bringing much-needed warmth. From now on, she vowed, if Morgana came home, she would find her chambers ready for her. Gwen swallowed the lump in her throat and was about to gather up her equipment when she became aware of the door slowly opening.

It was as if a prayer had been answered.

Morgana slipped into the room, closing the door and leaning against it.

Gwen’s hand crept to her mouth. “Morgana?”

**

Morgana couldn’t quite believe how easy it was to slip through the corridors of the castle unseen and unchallenged. Really, she thought irritably, if I’d realised it was this easy I could have killed Arthur in his sleep. She shivered and thrust the thought away from her.

She wasn’t too sure what to do and had opted to go to her chambers to see if she could at least tame the wildness of her hair and find something more suitable to wear before she faced Arthur. The last thing she expected, was to enter her rooms and find the place bright, warm and welcoming. And Gwen was there, too. There was no fear or hate in Gwen’s expression, only thankfulness and it was enough to sweep away the last of Morgana’s defences.

“Gwen. Oh Gwen, I want to come home.”

The next moment she was in Gwen’s arms and they were both weeping. When they finally calmed enough to speak, it was Gwen who took charge.

“Well, the first thing you need, my Lady, is a bath. You stink.”  
  


“I know. It’s awful and I would love a bath more than just about anything. But I need to speak to Arthur straight away.”

“Not like that, you’re not. I’ll organise that bath and then I’ll let Arthur know you’re here. Yes?”

“Thank you. Gwen, I’m sorry -”

Gwen stopped her simply by placing a hand over her mouth. “Hush, Morgana, plenty of time to talk about everything. Arthur and Merlin are going to be pleased you’re home, I’m sure they are.”

“Arthur perhaps – but Merlin? You don’t know what he did to me, Gwen.” It hurt, the memory, one of her dearest friends, one of her few true friends, trying to kill her.

“Merlin would never want to harm you, Morgana, I promise.”

She was away and calling for the bath before Morgana could respond, chivvying the servants while Morgana disappeared behind the dressing screen out of the way. She could hear the questions and the mutterings and smiled at the way Gwen ignored them all. In the midst of it, a thought occurred to her and she knew it to be the truth. No, Merlin would not have _wanted_ to hurt her. She frowned and understood that there were difficult conversations to be had with many before she could finally find the peace she now craved. And then there was Agravaine.

Gwen called her and interrupted her thoughts. She threw off her tatty robes, safe in the knowledge that she would never see them again, and, blushing, let Gwen help her into the steaming water. She was handed the soap and advised not to fall asleep in the water, and that Gwen would help her with her hair when she returned. Her throat closed and she could only clasp Gwen’s hand for a moment. Gwen paused and then leaned forward to press a kiss to Morgana’s cheek before she was gone.

**

The tapping at the door became an insistent knocking. Arthur fully expected his servant to get up and answer it, but a suspiciously false sounding snore was all the response he received when he jabbed his finger in Merlin’s side. With a put upon sigh, he untangled himself from the bedclothes, hauling a robe around him and opening the door a crack.

"Gwen?" He was surprised enough at finding Gwen outside, but her next words were so unexpected, he could only gape at her.

"Arthur, Morgana's come home. She wants to see you."

"Morgana's here? Now?" He couldn't quite help the way his voice squeaked in dismay, though he couldn't quash the sudden hope.

Gwen paused and narrowed her eyes as she tried to peer through the crack in the door. Arthur glared at her and Gwen huffed, not noticeably downcast by her King's displeasure. In fact, thought Arthur, she was positively glowing.

He smirked.

Gwen blushed.

"Well, not now now, as in this minute now, I mean, it's probably better, don't you think. I mean in the morning -" she stumbled to a halt as Arthur couldn't contain his amusement.

"I'm sure Morgana would like to rest. We'll speak in the morning." He was serious for a moment. "Should I post guards just in case it's a ruse?"

"It's not." Gwen sounded as if she had never been surer of anything in her life. "It's our Morgana, Arthur. It's as if she's been healed in some way."

There was a sudden wash of utter relief, of a world re-setting itself as it should be and Arthur felt almost giddy with it.

"I'm happy to go with your instincts, Gwen, and now I'll let you get back to her. I'm sure she'll be very pleased to see you." He let every bit of innuendo he could manage seep into his voice, for the sheer joy of seeing her blush again.

She tried to scowl at him, but he thought she was probably feeling equally as giddy, then he saw mischief light her eyes. 

"Goodnight, Sire. Goodnight, Merlin."

"Night, Gwen." 

Arthur shut his eyes in disbelief as Gwen giggled and made her escape.

Shutting the door with exaggerated care, he stalked towards the bed. His teasing admonishment caught in his throat as Merlin stared at him and his expression was full of awe and love, disconcerting him. There was a long moment as so much was exchanged without a word being said.

Merlin smiled and held out his hand.

"We're going to be happy, Merlin," Arthur said as he reached out. "We're all going to be so happy." And then he pounced on the unsuspecting Merlin, laughing aloud as they wrestled and play-fought. Before long, it turned into something so much gentler and sweeter as a King and a sorcerer cemented their bond.

**

Gwen almost danced down the corridors and then paused as she passed a particular door. She knocked and after a few moments, it was opened.

"I thought you should know, Lord Agravaine, that Morgana has returned to us. We will have peace."

There was a long silence and she regarded him steadily.

"I see. Thank you for telling me of this good news."

She bobbed a curtsey and left him. Somehow she knew that when morning came, Agravaine would no longer be in Camelot.

Then she was at the chamber door, her heart bursting with joy as she entered.

All would be well now.

Fin


End file.
